Catharsis
by Em Mindelan
Summary: S/V - Set during Season One - Alternate Universe - *COMPLETE*
1. Blood on Your Hands

Hey everyone!  
This is the first in a series of Syd POV pieces set in S1, and probably progressing through to S2 if I'm inspired enough. This first one, called "Blood on Your Hands" is set immediately after Syd finds Danny's body in "Truth Be Told". The second piece, which will be published when I get enough reviews to make me happy [yes, I know it's evil, but anyway...review and you shall be rewarded with more chapters] is called "Learning to Live [and Lie] Again". I don't like the titles of these pieces much, but anyway...on with the fic.

TIME PERIOD/SPOILERS - Set in early S1 right now...no spoilers.   
RATING - PG/PG-13  
SUMMARY - Sydney on life...and Vaughn. 

DISTRIBUTION – Cover Me; anywhere else, please ask first!  
DISCLAIMER - I don't own Alias, or any of its characters. Quotes from _Macbeth_ by William Shakespeare. Definition from www.dictionary.com.****

**Catharsis**

_Blood On Your Hands___

You think one day that your life is near perfect. 

Loving boyfriend. Great friends. A job defending your country. 

Then your boyfriend proposes. 

And you realize that you can't keep lying to him about your real job. 

He thinks you're a banker. 

You tell him the truth.

**truth****: **

_Conformity to fact or actuality._ _A state__ment__ proven to be or accepted as true. __Sincerity; integrity. __Fidelity to an original or standard. __ _

_a) Reality; actuality                                      _

_b) often truth,_**that which is considered to be the supreme reality and to have the ultimate meaning and value of existence.__**

Everyone talks about truth like it is the Holy Grail. "I told the truth", they may say. Or "I know the truth". They make it sound so clear cut, so black and white, an instant resolution to every and any problem. _You_ used to think that truth was the Holy Grail of relationships and love and life….then you became a spy, and lies became your best friend.

The truth shall set you free, they said. The truth only imprisoned you in cages of more lies, more disguises, more tears…__

Now you are numb, holding the head of your dead fiancée as he lies prone fully clothed in your bath. The blood is sticky and viscous, and clings to your fingers in long strands. You stare blankly at your hands…they have so much blood on them. Your hands are a dark red, like the juice from the first cherries of the summer.

You remember eating cherries with Danny…sitting in a hammock somewhere, at someone's beach house…you were both covered in the sweet juice of the fruit by the time you reached the bottom of the bag, but you didn't care. You raced him to the ocean, and you won. And the waves washed away the juice, and you were clean again. 

_Pleaseletmehavedayslikethoseagain___

You wonder if even the biggest waves, the deepest ocean could wash away this much blood…you wonder how you are supposed to ever feel clean again.

They take his body away. You're numb, and covered in the blood of your dead lover. You take a shower. A long one, with steaming hot water….you beg the water to take away the blood and the sin and the dirt and the lies and the guilt and the grief and the tears that you feel, but it can't. You still have blood on your hands, and no amount of scrubbing, not even until your hands are red and raw from the blisteringly hot water and the endless scrubbings can take it away.

_Yet here's a spo__t…/Out, damned spot! Out, I say_! /.... What, will these hands ne'er be clean?..../Here's the smell of the blood still./What  
done cannot be undone. /__

You still have blood on your hands.

_Pleasesomeonehelpmecleanthissinthisguiltthisbloodthisdeaththesetears_


	2. Learning to Live And Lie Again

**Learning to Live [and Lie] Again**

You have blood on your hands, you know, and for a little while, you are consumed by your guilt. But then you realise that there are people with more blood on their hands, more sin, more evil, more death to their names. They are the people you must destroy, in a penance for your sins.

So, you do penance. You kill. You steal. You lie. You…live. And you lie, and you wonder how much longer the world will ask this of you before just letting you die in peace, forgotten. 

He helps you, sometimes. Both of them do. So similar…so incredibly different. Both devoted to their jobs, but with no use for protocol [_almost a dirty word for them].  _

He is always there_ [be careful out there. this is not about cutting off an arm of the monster - this is about killing the monster]…_that night on the pier, when you broke down and cried like a little girl…_holdmeplease…he held your hand and you cried and you threw your pager into the Pacific and he comforted you and reassured you and kissed better where it hurt…or, at least, you wished he would kiss you, let you know that something, someone in this life was real. _

_Ineedsomeonesomethingtoberealneedwantsomeonetobehereforme_

You remember the first time you met him. You had hair as red as a clown's _stupidbozoeredhairhesaid and were missing teeth. You think you must have scared him a little…you certainly scared yourself. But he was sweet, and kind, [_and more than a little good looking, one of the little devils inside whispered]_ and concerned about you. _Ithoughtyouwerecrazybutiwatchedyou…_ _

Yes, he watched you. He was, still is, your guardian angel. Truth be told, you needed one of those…you needed someone to know the truth about you and still to care for you…you needed someone to know Sydney Bristow and to care about what happened to her anyway. And he cares, yes. He watches and he waits and you watch and you wait and you look and he looks and oh it's enough to break your heart….yes, he cares, you think to yourself. Cares a little bit too much to be professional, you think. But that doesn't really matter, does it? As long as someone cares…as long as someone is real in this life. 

He_ [daddy, why did you leave me with the nanny again?__ Why didn't you come to my play? Daddy, where's mommy gone?]_…loves you, you know. He cared enough to hide the truth all these years, at least…you've accepted now that it's a gesture of love to hide things away from, and to lie to those you care about. You see why he lied to you, told you he was an aeroplane parts salesman. He cared enough to try and keep you from the lies of this job….he failed, but isn't it enough to have tried anyway? You don't know, but you think you can live not knowing if it matters.

They both know the truth about you like no one else does….and they still care. They can see the blood on your hands, and they care anyway.  

So you keep living, and you keep lying [even to them sometimes, but just when they ask you if you're alright, and you wonder how on earth anyone could ever ask that question again because you don't know if you'll ever be alright or okay or anything even remotely approaching normal and you lie to them and say that you're fine and inside you're black and dark and crying and scrubbing away at the blood on your hands and you feel like you're going mad and you don't know how to cope and you want to die and you want to be normal and you don't want to have to lie anymore], and you wait to die.

Life goes on. You learn to lie and to live again…but all the while you wait to die, because you don't deserve to live. You will do penance for your sins, and then you will die. 

But sometimes when he looks at you…when he watches you from a distance and just stares…you wonder what will happen to him when you die.

And you realise that he cares too much for you…you know that you should do something about this, push him away, because he'll only get hurt when you eventually die….but you're not strong enough to push him away…you need someone. And that someone seems to be him.


	3. Scars

WARNING – This is definitely PG-13. And it's longer than the previous two as well, and it's the point where this story takes a very quick detour into the AU. Basically, it's set during the "The Box, Part I", and is an alternate ending to the scene where Vaughn and Syd are discussing her mother, and they hug. 

DISCLAIMER – I don't own Alias, or its characters, and I don't own Disneyland, or the Spinning Teacups. Definition from www.m-w.com [Merriam-Webster Online]

**Scars**

He holds you tightly, his hands wrapped in your hair. You're sobbing, tears running down your face, soaking his shirt…._ohgoditfeelssogoodtolethimholdme_

You're crying because the lies won't leave you alone and because your mother was nothing that you thought she was and now the one part of your life you thought was based on truth was based on lies and because your mother killed a man and left this little boy crying like you're crying now and like you cried when she died and because…because you wanted your father to be the traitor, because it would have been so much easier to accept because he was never there and you never really loved him and because….and because you thought your father was a bad man and you…you didn't mind that, because it made the years of neglect so much easier to bear. The knowledge that maybe he didn't care when you were younger because he was a traitor, a bad man, was easier for you to bear than thinking that he didn't care because he didn't love you. 

You worshipped your mother when you were younger. She was beautiful and graceful and perfect, and when you grew up, you wanted to be just like her. _Can't see the flaws in a diamond until you're up close, can you? You remember making cookies and cakes with her….making Father's Day cards with her…having tea parties with her. You loved her so much. _

Your father was around more then…you remember when they took you to Disneyland and your daddy took you on the Spinning Teacups…you giggled and squealed so much, and he grinned at you and lifted you up on his shoulders and you felt like the queen of the entire place. It was one of the best days of your life, you remember thinking. 

That was the last happy memory you have of your family…a month or so later, your mother died. And then they took away your father, and nothing about your life was simple or easy ever again.  

You can't imagine what it's been like for your father…loving the enemy, believing that she loved you in return…having a _child_ with the enemy, being trained to hunt down spies, and living with and loving one all the time, right under your nose. Suddenly, your father's cold demeanour becomes far more understandable. People have always said that you look like your mother…you've looked at photos yourself and seen the similarities. What sort of father looks at his daughter and sees his proudest accomplishment [_"my little princess", he used to call you] and his greatest downfall [_he looks in your eyes and sees her face_]?_

You wonder how a mother could leave her child, how a wife could leave a loving husband, and you wonder how a woman could serve her motherland to the extent that she would leave all that she knew to go and fall in love with the enemy, have a child with the enemy….it's beyond comprehendible to you. You pity her, in a way. What sort of woman has to make these sorts of sacrifices for her country?

In a way, though, you know the answer. You were forced to give up your lover [_ohdannyi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry**bloodonyourhands**_] by your decision to serve what you believed was your country. Your mother killed men, just as you have, in the service of your country. Maybe you're not as unalike as everyone thinks. _Like mother, like daughter?_  

You cry harder now…not just for yourself, but for your father, and your mother, but above all for the man who cradles you in his arms right now.

"How can you do this?" you half mutter, half sob against his chest.

He lifts your head, looks at you…he knows what you're talking about. 

[_I was eight when my father became one of those stars] _

You continue on, your face on his shoulder again.

"Don't you see her face when you look at me? She killed your father, Vaughn! _She was the one who made your father a star on that wall at Langley! Why don't you hate me?" _

"You're not her, Syd. Don't ever think that you are. She was your mother only by name….nothing she did changes what we have." This last sentence, you note, is almost choked out.

You look at his face again, and you see him crying as well. Why does he cry, you wonder? 

He cries, you know, for the little boy who never really knew his father. He cries for his lost childhood. He cries for his father, dying alone and in pain, and he cries…he cries for you, you think, dealing with the knowledge that your mother was nothing like the woman you thought she was. 

And all you can do is sob "I'm sorry" over and over and over again into his shoulder.

He lifts your head, and you look into his eyes, and you see the pain in them, as well as the…._love? care? **desire**? You don't care exactly what it is, but all you know is that you need this…you need him, and he knows it. _

He kisses you, and you can see it coming and it's everything and it's nothing and it's strong and it's sweet and it's overwhelming and all thoughts of your mother and your father and of his father go out the window, because this is Vaughn and it's good and you need this so much and before you know it you're up against the chain link fence and his hands are on you and your hands are on him and _ohgodineedthisnowplease_.

                                                            ***

You gather up your clothes and leave without speaking before he does. 

You're calm, controlled, not a hair out of place.

You give no clues that a few hours before you'd done…things that you shouldn't have done with your handler up against a chain link fence, and that it felt good and it felt right and it's utterly wrong and that you really wouldn't mind doing it again, but you know you can't.

You give no clues as to the bleeding scratches on your back, or the bruises on your skin, or the bruises within, or to the fact that you had screamed out his name over and over again. 

You needed him so badly and you're sorry for using him the way you did, because he deserves better than to be used like this…you just needed someone to let you know that you're still alive, because sometimes pain is the only real thing in your world and sometimes pain just lets you know that you're still alive. 

You used him because you have blood on your hands, and you have the face of your mother [_spykillerlovermother_] and because, in the end, you needed him to take away the pain that won't let you breathe properly.

**catharsis**** -**

**1. **purgation

**2. ****a) **purification or purgation of the emotions (as pity and fear) primarily through art

**b) **a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension

**3.  **Elimination of a complex by bringing it to consciousness and affording it expression.

Sometimes you just need to let it all out….

That was ultimately what this was all about for you. A purging of the guilt and death and pain and tears and secret desires and above all the lies that have plagued your thoughts for so long. 

You just wanted no lies, for a little while at least.

In the end, you needed him, and you wanted him, and sometimes that's the only thing that matters.


	4. Push

A/N – Still AU, still pretty strong PG-13. This one's set during "The Solution", just after No!Augh [otherwise known as Noah Hicks] shows up.

DISCLAIMER – I still don't own any of them.

**Catharsis**

_Push_

You knew there would be consequences.

You knew, and you did it anyway, because you wanted him, and nothing else mattered then…you wouldn't let anything else matter, because you needed something to be real in your life, needed something to be real then.

He hasn't mentioned it, and you certainly haven't brought it up.

But sometimes you catch him looking at you, and you can tell he's thinking about it. 

And sometimes he gets angry with you when he never would have before, and you know he feels it. He knows you used him, and sometimes he likes to let you show that he knows that, and that he hasn't forgiven you. 

It was a mistake, you think. A mistake to let him get so close, to give him a taste of what he could have in different circumstances.

So you push him away. That's why you were so relieved, almost happy to see Noah again. Noah was…uncomplicated. He knew you were a spy, and he worked for SD-6, and you had a history with him. It was easy enough to pick up the strings of the relationship when Noah resurfaced. 

You used Noah like you used Vaughn, in a way – using them as a way of getting something else. Noah was intended to hurt Vaughn, to cause him enough pain that he would realise that he was playing with fire, and that he should stay away from you, because all you'll bring him is pain and death. Noah was supposed to drive Vaughn away from you. 

You're standing on a beach now.

This isn't the first time you've been here recently.

You were here a few weeks ago, with him [_so, how have you been? c'mon, Sloane, it's not her fault! I told you to meet me in San Pedro…_]. 

He asked you to come away with him, to a little tropical island where you could be free of everything. 

You can't go, and you know that. [_If things were different._] 

But you're tempted, certainly…to just get away from this place, this life, these lies….what a relief that would be, you think. 

But every time you think about the life you could have with him on some small South Pacific island, you wish it was Vaughn you saw teaching you how to surf [_although it would probably be hockey…does Vaughn even know how to surf?]…._

He thinks that love is a weakness [_Because I was in love. And I was afraid to admit that to myself. I saw that as a sign of weakness in this work._] You agree sometimes. Love is a weakness in this line of work. Love gets you killed. Love…is a double edged sword, more than anything else. You can have pleasure, have fun, have love…but eventually you'll only have pain.  

You kill everyone you love, you think. _First Danny._ Now Noah. _That's why you're driving away Vaughn. Because he loves you, or at least cares about you more than he should, and because he's a good man who knows the truth about you and who still cares and because, ultimately, you don't want to have to kill him, or have him killed because of you. _

You have blood on your hands. _So much blood, still. Multiplied now. _

But it doesn't hurt so much now, because you're numb to the pain. You had another shower like the one you had after Danny died…the water was scalding hot, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if it would burn you, but then you realised that you didn't care, because maybe the water would let you feel something. Because right now you don't feel anything. 

You went to see Vaughn when you got back from Australia.

You were in the blood donor van this time.

He saw your battered and bleeding knuckles, the result of a training session spent trying to hurt yourself so you could feel something, feel anything. He went to get you an ice pack, and placed it gently on your hands, soothing the barely-felt bruises.

Before you knew it though, you were up against the wall of the van, and he kissed you, fiercely at first, as if to mark his property and to let you know that nothing had changed since Noah, that you were still his to look after, and that you couldn't drive him away with all the spies, old lovers and assassins in the world. 

This was Vaughn up against you, his arms around you, his lips on yours, strong and not in the least bit gentle or slow and letting you know exactly who was using who this time around and letting you know that if last time had been about purging your pain and guilt and lies, that this time would be about letting loose of his anger and hurt and the grief he still held about his father.

He stands up suddenly, and you watch his eyes flash with a fleeting anger, and then hurt and pain and grief replace the anger, before being replaced in turn by a kind of need, and desire and there is a bit of anger in there as well you think, as all thoughts turn to mush as his hand makes its way up under your shirt, and he is rough and demanding and he says something roughly to you.

"I want to hear you say my name. Mine. Not Danny's. Not Noah's. Let me know that you want me here, not your dead lovers. This is not about your ghosts, Sydney. This is about me, and this is about you."

Yes, you think. This is about me, and it is about you, and it's about us using each other as tools to get exactly what we want. And oh boy, if we're going to be used…well, it's not such a bad method, is it, you think to yourself.

You lock eyes with him, and watch him fight the desire he feels with the anger and other emotions surging throughout his body.

"Vaughn." You speak finally, disturbing the silence that had fallen.

"_What do you want, __Sydney__?" _

"I want you."

And you do want him. You want him, and you need him, and maybe it's time you finally admit to yourself that it's not solely for his sake that you're pushing him away, and that maybe more than a little of it is due to not wanting to be hurt again, and that maybe you just don't want to admit to anyone that maybe it's possible to love again after Danny.

He looks at you once. He sees the mixed emotions in your eyes [_lovedesireangerhurtpainguiltgriefconflicttorment] and he kisses you and you know that he believes you._

It's hard and it's fast and it's unforgiving, but he kisses you better once you're finished.

This isn't about ghosts. This is about life, and moving forward, and forgiving…but never forgetting. This is about letting go and about freedom from lies and it's about moving past the pain, and ignoring the blood on your hands. This is about desire and need and want and love and death and pain and guilt and sin and anger and about everything in the world, and at the same time it's about nothing. 

But above all, it's about life.

_Please read and review! Feedback makes my world go round! Really, it does! _


	5. Author's Notes

Dear readers [and especially readers who review],

Ladies and gentlemen, that's it for "Catharsis".

However, "Catharsis" has a sequel. As a matter of fact, "Catharsis" is going to have _two_ sequels. 

You may now dance around in joy. :D [If you want to, that is].

When I originally conceived this story [it began while writing my J/I fic, "Chrysalis, which not enough people have reviewed for my liking..*pouts*], it was going to be a series of short [like 500 words each] vignettes from Sydney's POV on life, and on Vaughn, throughout Seasons One and Two.

  
And it was all going to be perfectly canon and nice and simple and easy and…yeah, all those things. 

However, someone sort of forgot to tell Sydney and Vaughn that, because half way through writing "Scars", they told me that they wanted to do…stuff which they didn't do in the show. And, well….have you ever tried to deny Sydney and Vaughn anything? To be perfectly honest, Sydney scares me a little, and Vaughn is too hot for his own good. :D

So. Yeah. I've ended up with this. And what this is [or will end up being] exactly is a trilogy, tentatively titled "Passion", just because it's a word with so many different meanings. Really, it is. Look it up sometime. It's a very versatile word.

The first part of this trilogy, "Catharsis", is complete. 

The second part, "Evolution", can be found here - [right now only the first chapter is up, but there will be more soon.]

  
The third, "Renaissance", will begin when "Evolution" concludes [sometime the end of this week, probably, at the rate I'm churning out chapters!]  

So, please, read and review. 

Before we go, though, I'd just like to thank a few people.

  
Firstly, my best friend, even though she's not an Alias fan, who is always more than happy to read through my fics, even though she doesn't really understand what's going on with most of the characters. Thanks for always being there, duckling. *huggles* 

Secondly, my SpyFriend, Kwayera, wherever she's hiding right now [in Japan, I believe…], who is always ready to beta fics [or even just read them through for me] when she's on the same continent [or even just has computer access :D].

Thirdly, the supportive people here, and at SD-1 [if you haven't been there, go NOW. It's a board full of friendly people who write some of the best fic around] who have reviewed this. So, thank you to all of you for spending the time to review, because there is nothing that makes me want to write more than a bunch of people _wanting_ me to write more.

Thanks very much, and just remember that reading [and reviewing…especially reviewing] makes my world go round.

God bless,

Em


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